THE ALLYN HOUSE.

they fringe the grassy covering now of many a trusting and demure maiden, who believed in their marvelous virtues. And who shall say but that faith lends to its object something of the quality with which it believes it to be already endowed.

For myself, it seems to me that we are more indebted to the Puritans for the beautiful examples of faith and trust bequeathed to us, than for their noble independence and resistance of oppression. There was no questioning about chance, and fate, and free-will-they knew no will but God's will; and under the severest afflictions still prayed-"Thy will be done!" Speaking of a little daughter whom he had lost at sea, Mr. Higginson says:

"So it was God's will the child died about five of the clock at night, being the first of our ship that was buried in the bowels of the great Atlantic sea."

Writing of a great storm which befell them shortly after the burial, he says, with a simplicity which begets in us confidence in all his curious narrations, "This day Mr. Goff's great dog fell overboard, and could not be recovered."

As they came near the shore, (I speak now of the emigrants of 1630,) abundance of yellow flowers, which they supposed to have come from the low meadows, floated out to meet them, which made them the more anxious to see the New-England paradise.

"Through God's blessing," he says, "our passage was short and speedy; for whereas we had a thousand leagues to sail

AVERY

from Old England, we performed the same in six weeks and three days."

The governor went aboard ship to meet them, and himself and family were lodged in his house, which he describes as fair and newly built. Not one of the pilgrim houses is left standing now. The Allyn House, a I cut of which we here give, is a specimen of the old style, but more spacious perhaps than that in which Higginson was lodged by the governor.

We can imagine psalms and thanksgivings going up from beneath that roof for preservation from "maledictions” and the divers perils of the sea, and for the delight which they had received in beholding the wonders of the Lord in the deep, which our author quaintly says, those who dare not go to their town's end, shall never have the honor to see."

66

Of their habits during the voyage, he says: "That they constantly served God, morning and evening, by reading and expounding the Scripture-by singing and prayer-and the Sabbath was solemnly kept by adding to the former preaching twice and catechizing." And in great need they kept solemn fasts with gracious effect-and he desires all to take notice that fasting and prayer are as "prevailable" by sea as by land. The ship-master and his company, we are told, "set their watches with singing, and prayer that was not read in a book."

Higginson but exemplifies the general spirit of trust, of piety, of cheerfulness. "Experience doth manifest," he says, "that there is hardly a more healthful place to be found in the world that agreeth better with our English bodies." For himself, he says: "Whereas I did formerly require such drink as was both strong and stale, now I can, and oftentimes do, drink New-England water very well."

Throughout all the chronicles kept by the settlers of Massachusetts Bay, we find the same cheerful piety manifested as has already been exhibited in Master Higgin

son's report.

No lamentings anywhere for the blessings they had foregone, but a constant setting forth of those that were left.

William Wood, in his description of Massachusetts, says: "In an ill sheep year, I have known mutton as dear in Old England, and dearer than goat's flesh is in New-England; which is altogether as good, if fancy be set aside."

Among their other afflictions came pestilence, insomuch that there was scarcely a house where there was not one dead; "but they who survived were not discouraged, but bore God's corrections with humility," remembering always that he had power to raise them up, as well as cast them down.

Of one it is said, "She was a godly virgin, making a comfortable end;" and that the like loss of her had not been sustained; and it is added, without murmur or complaint," she deserves to be remembered."

66

"There are graves in other places," writes one, as well as with us." Of the death of Robert Welden, "a hopeful young gentleman," who had just been chosen captain of a hundred foot, the chronicle says: "he was buried as a soldier, with three vollies of shot ;" and in the next sentence a thanksgiving is recorded. On every page of their records our pusillanimity is shamed by their great trust and steady perseverance-remembering always the primary object of their pilgrimage, they paused only to bury their dead,

never to mourn.

But to return to the Pilgrims of 1620, for I have been led away from them by the interest attaching to the narratives of their followers.

Early in the morning of the 9th of November, after the sufferings of a crowded passage of sixty-four days, these Pilgrims obtained their first view of the coast of America. Their rejoicing and praising of God we must leave to be imagined. Wonderfully refreshing must have been the sight of the sand-hills covered with scrubby woods and sloping toward the sea, leafless and snow-covered as they were. After being driven about by contrary winds and endangered by shoals, they were anchored safely in Cape Cod harbor.

Before making land, however, they had covenanted and combined themselves together into a civil body-politic for the hon

oring of their king and country, the advancement of the Christian faith, and the glory of God. This voluntary agreement has been defined by some American writers, "the birth of popular constitutional liberty;" and this has undoubtedly proved the fruit of the tree they planted, although they had no idea of the gigantic growth it was destined to, or of its fruit.

As soon as anchor was cast, parties went ashore to fetch wood and water, and a shallop was fitted for the exploring of the coast, and selecting a suitable place for settlement. This plan was shortly relinquished, in consequence of the shallop proving unworthy; and a party, under the leadership of Captain Miles Standish, volunteered to make an exploration on foot. This was esteemed a service of great peril, and rather permitted, we are informed, than approved. At length, however, sixteen men, armed with musket, sword, and corslet, were put ashore.

They spent the first day in tracking Indians, but were overtaken by night without having encountered any; and kindling a fire, appointed sentinels, and lay down to sleep. The following day they renewed the tracking, but became entangled in thickets, by reason of which their very armor is said to have been literally torn to pieces.

The annexed cut represents the armor of the period, though it is probable our pilgrims had only a corselet and headpiece.

These explorers appear to have found nothing more worthy of note than some Indian traps, in one of which Captain Standish was caught accidentally, the site of a house, an old ship's kettle, and a basket of Indian corn, which they carried away, intending to reimburse the owners; also, they crossed some graves. Wearily they drew toward the seashore, and were glad to have their signal answered from the ship.

Subsequently, a larger party went out in the boat, which, owing to boisterous winds, could not keep the sea, and the men were forced to wade ashore through water above their knees, and after toilsome marching to encamp for the night in the open air, and exposed to a fall of snow, so that some who afterward died were supposed to have there "taken the original of their deaths." The following day the explorations were renewed, the snow through which they waded, and the wintry woods, making the scene doubly desolate. Their only good fortune seems to have been the finding of a supply of corn. By the third day several were too sick to proceed further, and were accordingly sent back; and shortly the whole party became worn out with the hard toil and discouragement, when ten of the staunchest volunteered to proceed alone; among these were Standish, Carver, Bradford, and Winslow. The cold was intense, and from their great suffering two of the ten were taken ill; the sleet froze over them, and, says the chronicle, they were speedily cased all over in coats of iron.

They met traces of Indians, but encountered none. One night a hideous cry surprised them, and the sentinel cried "To arms!" but having fired off a couple of muskets, nothing more was heard, and the shrieks were supposed to have been wild beasts. This supposition proved untrue, for on the morrow, having prayed, and being about to breakfast, a repetition of the yell burst upon them, followed by a storm of arrows. Standish was the first to fire, and his companions quickly followed with a general discharge of musketry. The sachem stood bravely, but was at length overcome, and wounded fled back into the woods. "The First Encounter" the place of this skirmish is called.

They now betook themselves to the boat, but the sea proved more inhospitable

than the shore. Heavy snow and rain came on, and with the prospect all obscured, "the gale increased, the sea got up, the rudder snapped," and a poor attempt at steering was made with a couple of oars, the waves threatening to swamp them, and the light of a winter day fading from a perilous shore-surely they needed then their great trust. The pilot having called them to be of good cheer, for he beheld the harbor, all sail was strained to get in, when the mast snapped in three places, and the pilot exclaimed, "The Lord be merciful! my eyes never saw this place before." Breakers were just before them, but with wonderful presence of mind the shallop was got about and carried into the harbor with flood tide. Safe from the danger of the sea, night came down upon them, wet, hungry, almost frozen. Fear of the savages kept them for some time in the boat, but so near perishing were they with cold that a few went ashore, and having kindled a fire, were joined by the rest. The place proved to be an uninhabited island, and having looked about they resolved to pass the day there, dry their baggage, and refix their muskets. The next day was Sunday, and sore pressed as they were to join their companions, they remained and observed it with customary solemnity. Monday, sounding the harbor, they found it eligible for shipping, and determined to explore the shores further, and making land, stepped on the rock which has since acquired such celebrity. Here their researches ended, as has been already recorded, and, weighing anchor, they carried back the good news to their friends.

During their exploration, Mistress White gave birth to a son, whom she called Peregrine—the first child born in the colonyand Dorothy, the wife of Bradford, was drowned.

On the 17th of December, the MayFlower set sail from Cape Cod Harbor, and the next day anchored in Plymouth Bay, and having called on God for direction, went ashore.

The spot where they resolved to settle was a ridge of high ground which had been cleared and planted with corn some years before. The place, we are told, abounded with "delicate springs" of water, and under the hillside ran "a very sweet brook."

A rude shelter was erected, where the

face so that he looked greasily. All of his followers painted themselves of different colors, yellow, red, and black, and some dressed in skins, and some went naked." Governor Carver is represented as pledging his wild visitors very courteously in strong drinks, which they reciprocated in more potent draughts.

With the warm weather, preparation for the departure of the May-Flower was made, and it is strange, in view of all the hardship and suffering, and the losses of friends, brothers, sisters, husbands and wives, that not one sought opportunity to return home, but remained, resolved at all hazards to make homes among the graves of their kindred.

Soon after the departure of the MayFlower, Governor Carver, while at work in the field, was taken ill, in a few hours became speechless, and after a few days died. It is said of him that his great care "for the common good shortened his days."

William Bradford, of whom we have previously spoken, was chosen his successor. The first marriage took place May 12th, 1621, and was between Edward Winslow and Susanna White, both of whom had been recently bereaved of their companions. Under ordinary circumstances, this proceeding would have been regarded as an indecency and a scandal; but under the trying circumstances it seems to have been considered exemplary.

The first offense, as recorded in the journal of the governor, is that of John Billington; and was contempt of the captain's lawful command, and opprobrious speeches, for which he was adjudged to have his neck and heels tied together;" for what length of time the journal saith not. It appears, however, that in humbling himself and craving pardon he was forgiven. Remarkable leniency for the times. The second offense was a duel fought upon challenge at single combat with sword and dagger, between Edward Dotey and Edward Leister, servants of Mr. Hopkins. What the cause of challenge was, appears not; but the parties actually fought and were both wounded, for which they were adjudged to have their head and feet tied together, and so lie for twenty-four hours without meat or drink.

frequent and disorderly, insomuch that it was thought advisable to send an embassy to the nearest chief to make arrangements mutually agreeable. Winslow was appointed diplomatist; and taking with him a coat of red cotton, edged with lace, a present for the sachem, and accompanied by an interpreter, they set out. After a weary march they fell in with the chief, to whom they presented the red coat, and whom they paid for the Indian corn which they appropriated on a former expedition.

The chief was so pleased with these courtesies, that he promised to comply with all their requests, and distinguished his guests by lodging them in the same bed with himself and wife. If the Pilgrims had always acted upon this conciliatory plan, it would have saved their names from centuries of reproach.

The good ship Fortune came in November, bringing a reinforcement of over thirty settlers; but in consequence of extravagant reports about the fertility of the country, she brought no supplies of food; so the colony was reduced to short allow

ance.

It is pleasant to contemplate the friendly intercourse between the settlers and the Indians at this period. Winslow says:

"We have found them very loving and ready to pleasure us. We often go to them, and they come to us; some of us have been fifty miles in the country with them."

They were entertained familiarly, and repaid the hospitality with skins and venison. And it was a common picture to see the Englishmen in corslet and buff sitting on the grass beside the plumed and painted chief. We pass over the details of the first bloody encounter, quoting, simply, what Robinson, the good pastor whom they had left behind them, said, on hearing of it. "Consider your ways, and the disposition of your captain, who is of warm temper," he wrote-he doubted whether there was not wanting that tenderness of the life of man which was meet, and added: "O how happy a thing had it been, if you had converted some before you killed any."

66